Legion Lost (26 page)

“Can
we get off the subject of me?” I ask. “If it weren’t for Stirling, I wouldn’t
even be here right now.”

Stirling
looks pleased with this remark, until Malcolm waggles a mocking finger.

“And
if it weren’t for Stirling, I’d have Prudell’s head on a pike right now,” he
retorts.

Whether
he means it or not, the idea flips my stomach over. A part of me is relieved,
once again, that Stirling was smart enough to stop me from giving in to my own hatred.

Up
until now, Apryl and Goddie have watched our heated exchange with tense
expressions, but now Goddie swallows hard, leaning forward in his wheelchair to
be noticed.

“For
what it’s worth, I think dat Stirling’s idea about de nation uniting isn’t half
bad,” he says. “My people are farmers on de southeast border of de System, one
part of de Unfortunate Few. Dem types treat us bad, and families are starving
dere, whilst System-dwellers are stuffing der faces and throwing food away.”

Goddie
dips his head, his fingertips toying with his bandaged leg.

“My
mother has eight children,” he continues, “and I left because my siblings would
have starved if I’d stayed. I think if der was a peaceful uprising, like
Stirling said, den my mother would join it. My whole community would.”

Talking
of home brings out a softer side of Goddie. Sitting in his chair with all the
bashfulness of a frightened little boy, he looks nothing like the burly,
overconfident chatterbox I know. Apryl reaches out to put her hand over his, addressing
the rest of us as she too joins the debate.

“And
we know that there are people inside the System itself whose lives are far from
ideal,” she says softly. “Our friend Lucrece . . .”

She
chokes on her words for the briefest moment.

“Well,
there must be more people like her out there. People who could use our help.”

“Who
is Lucrece?” Malcolm asks with interest.

I
rise from my seat, slowly reaching into my trouser pocket to retrieve the
diary. I walk to Malcolm’s desk and place the book before him. In the rebel
leader’s eyes, I see an ice-cold determination that never wavers. That same determination
is what has kept me alive this long, whatever the cost. Some people don’t have
that fire in their hearts to keep on living, and they’re the ones I know we
should be helping.

“Read
it,” I tell Malcolm. “This girl is your revolution’s hero, not me.”

The
Highlander scoops up the tiny book, slipping it into his breast pocket with a
nod. His hands wander forward to the scroll still waiting before him.

“You
may just get your wish for a united nation, Stirling,” Malcolm says. “I believe
Raja has brought me a rescue mission.”

I
take my seat again, boosted by the sight of Malcolm taking up the data scroll
to read about Valkyrie. He paws through the details, sharp eyes scanning as he
presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek in thought. The scroll
unravels, spilling out onto the fish tank’s earthy floor, where the air from
the vent makes it flutter to and fro. Malcolm is lost in his thoughts for one
hopeful moment before he sets the papers down with a look that threatens to crush
my dreams.

“The
guards at this facility outnumber my men three to one,” he tells us. “I’m
sorry, Raja. It’s just too much of a risk.”

I
could scream. I could throw myself at Malcolm and threaten him, telling him
that he has to do this for me. I could lift my chair and let it smash through
the walls of his perfect little office. But I don’t. I don’t have time to do
anything, because Malcolm adds one final word to his decision.

“Unless . . . ”

Every
hope I’ve ever had rests on that single, wonderful word.

“Unless
what?” I ask him.

Malcolm
reclines, pushing the documents aside to put his feet up on his table.

“A
few days ago, I took a young Undergrounder off your hands in the woods. A fella
by the name of Vinesh.”

I
nod, and so do the others.

“What
about him?” Stirling asks.

“Vinesh
is a great fan of stories,” Malcolm continues. “Whilst he was here, he told my
men a tale. It was the tale of a girl who could outrun and outwit the System. A
fearless girl with a ruthless heart, who escaped from the Underground with a
vow to return and rescue her family.”

I
can feel my pulse in my throat again. My heart is beating so hard that I fear
it’s going to burst right out of me.

“This
girl is Vinesh’s sister,” Malcolm adds. “He wouldn’t give us her name, but I’ve
heard my men calling her the Bullet. I sent Vinesh north through some other
Highland factions, to a place where I knew he’d be safe. I’d wager he’s been
telling that same story everywhere he goes.”

“What
does dat have to do with us?” Goddie asks.

Malcolm
grins.

“Stories
have power,” he explains. “They inspire mankind to do all sorts of noble
things.”

At
this, he pats the square shape in his pocket, where Lucrece’s diary rests.

“If
I were to tell some of the other Highland leaders that we have the Bullet Girl
of the Underground leading our march, I don’t think I’d have any trouble
getting the numbers I need to rescue every last prisoner in Valkyrie.”

“One
slight problem with that,” Stirling interrupts. “You’d be lying to them. You
don’t have the Bullet Girl.”

Malcolm
says nothing; he just keeps grinning. Stirling's expression changes to one of
hopeful amazement.

“Do
you?” he asks.

Apryl
gasps, making us all leap in our seats with shock. To my horror, she is looking
straight at me, wide-eyed, but thoughtful, like a million different
realisations are happening in her head at once.

“You
see,” Malcolm says triumphantly, “in the Legion, she could blend in nicely.
Everyone looks the same there. The Legion doesn’t want you to be who you are.
Out here, things are different. The forests of the Highlands demand that you
show your truest heart. There’ll be no more hiding here, Undergrounder. Those
days are behind you now.”

I
find myself looking into Malcolm’s pale eyes, where his frightful ferocity has
given way to a brand new emotion. Hope. Those eyes that once terrified me are
now asking for my aid. They’re pleading with me.

“Damn,”
Goddie says, starting to laugh. “I don’t know why I didn’t realise sooner!”

His
merriment soothes me, as does Apryl’s understanding smile. But Stirling rises
from his seat a second later, and my stomach gives another guilty flip.

“Have
you all gone mad?” the young captain asks. “You’re talking like she’s in this
room right now, like you all know her.”

Apryl
stands too, putting a compassionate hand on Stirling’s arm.

“She
is,” she says simply, “and we do.”

Stirling
looks to Malcolm in confusion, and the rebel leader gives the final obvious nod
in my direction. Stirling shakes his head, not even sparing me a glance before
he begins to deny it all.

“Raja?”
he says, almost laughing at his own disbelief. “It can’t be Raja, for goodness’
sake! Raja’s not even a g—”

When
he looks at me, the sentence dies on his lips. I’ve seen this look before, on
plenty of people’s faces in the Underground, when they do that double take
before they realise that I’m not a guy. I thought I’d be relieved that Stirling
finally knows the whole truth of me, but I’m not. There’s nothing relieving
about the cold, unrelenting stare that Stirling gives me as his shock settles
in. His oceanic eyes rage like wild sea-storms, the memory of all our quiet
moments passing between us in unseen synchronicity. I know him far better than
he knows me, because I can see the words written in Stirling’s gaze before he
even opens his mouth to speak.

“You
lied to me. You deceived me, all this time.”

And
with those words, he leaves me.

That
night, I sleep alone. And the next one, and the next. For days, I barely see
Stirling, he is engaged in increasing space on the mountainside, ready to
receive the large volume of fellow Highlanders who are now on their way to us.
Malcolm’s faith in Vinesh was not misplaced, and the power of his story is
drawing in a considerable force to march on Valkyrie. Malcolm says that Friday
will be that day. As much as my heart aches every time I think of Stirling, I
can’t help but feel excited at the prospect of finally seeing Mumma and my
brothers again.

One
last mission, and we can all go north to find Vinesh. We’ll leave this wretched
war behind for good then.

The
other former rejects seem to have found their functions helping out the
Highlanders, but Malcolm has only given me one task to achieve. In my hands
there is a grappling gun, which I’ve been learning to handle for the last three
days. It has a heavy central barrel which I brace against my chest, housing a
powerful pneumatic cannon that shakes me to the core when it fires. Instead of
shells or bullets, the cannon fires a length of thick steel cord with a sharp,
five-pronged hook at its end. This, Malcolm tells me, is how we’ll transport
Valkyrie’s victims out of the deep crater that contains the prison.

On
a quiet part of the lower hillside, I steady the heavy weapon for another
practice shot. It is Thursday afternoon, and in less than twenty-four hours,
I’ll be expected to join the crew of grapplers to bring my people to safety.
The other Highland factions are due to arrive at any moment, and the Bullet
Girl they’ve heard so much about needs to live up to their expectations. I have
to be ready. I have to look strong, even if I don’t really feel it. I aim the
hefty cannon at a particularly dark clutch of rocks in the mountainside,
squeezing hard on the trigger to let the hook loose.

“Nice
shot!” cries a voice nearby.

I
steady my shuddering bones, looking up to see Apryl approaching. Behind her,
Goddie is using two carved wooden crutches to descend the path between the
rocks and trees. I wave them over, walking to the rock face to inspect my
accuracy. Apryl’s right: it is an excellent shot. The thick hook is buried
securely in the dark rocks, just where I wanted it to go.

“Goddie,
should you be out here on that leg of yours?” I ask, scrambling up the scree
slope in order to release the hook.

“Ya,
it’s no problem,” he answers gleefully. “De titanium shell is doing all de work
now. But Malcolm won’t let me come with ya tomorrow. I’m no use to him yet.”

The
muscular boy looks genuinely upset that he can’t help. Apryl puts her hands on
her considerable hips.

“I’m
out too,” she says. “Malcolm told me I’d have to learn to clock a mile in
twelve minutes before he’d let me join you.”

“And
what did you say to that?” I ask.

Apryl
grins. “I told him to go to hell,” she answers simply. “This bodacious body was
not made for running. He’s hooked me up with Delilah instead. She’s gonna train
me for hacker work.”

There
is a central switch on the five-pronged hook that allows it to instantly
release its vicelike grip. I press hard on the switch, fumbling as the heavy
hook leaps free of the rock and lands in my outstretched hands. Another pang
hits my stomach as I mull over my friends’ words.

“You’re
sticking with Malcolm, then?” I ask them. “When all of this is over, you want
to stay here?”

“Of
course,” Goddie replies immediately. “He’s fighting de System head-on. I want
to be part of dat.”

“Why?”
Apryl retorts, her eyes roving over my face. “Aren’t you staying too?”

When
I’m thinking about it alone, it seems like such a simple decision, to just grab
my family and run. Hiding is what we Undergrounders have always done best, and
it’s always been the first instinct to come to my mind. Now though, with Apryl
and Goddie talking about bringing the System down, that fiery hatred that I
have for Prudell’s regime burns all the stronger in my heart. I’ll admit that
I’ve also taken pride in being the runaway rebel that the other Highlanders are
so keen to meet. I’m just as anxious as anyone else to see the warriors who are
coming to rescue my people, because of me and my actions these last few weeks.
It’s hard to think that, if I do flee to the north, I’ll just be nobody again.

“I’m
taking things one day at a time,” I answer.

“Keeping
secrets again?” croons a voice not far away. “What a surprise.”

I’d
know that purring accent anywhere. Stirling is standing at the top of the steep
path, looking down at the three of us with contempt, as though we’ve all
conspired to meet behind his back. Apryl gives me an apologetic look, shuffling
her feet as she loudly proclaims:

“Gee
Goddie, we’d better get back to work.”

“Ya,”
Goddie answers warily. “Dat red carpet’s not gonna roll itself out.”

Goddie
gives me a nod, and Apryl reaches out to squeeze my shoulder.

“Good
luck tomorrow, Bullet Girl,” she whispers.